'Between Islands’

Press, 30 August 1984, Page 8

'Between Islands’

Sam Hunt’s “Between Islands Tour,” Limes Room, Christchurch Town Hall, August 29 and 30, at 8 p.m. Running time: Two hours. Reviewed by Stephen Quinn. Sam Hunt the poet and performer is an elusive fellow.

As a performer he is very easy to listen to, as several hundred people who crammed the Limes Room of the Town Hall last evening will testify. But he is also very difficult to pin down. As soon as you have a notion of what he is talking about, he slips on to something else. This chaotic, almost chameleon, characteristic is both charming and puzzling. On stage Sam Hunt is continual motion. He moves physically about the platform, rocking and gyrating in tune with his verse. The motion is also emotional, and it is this which makes him difficult to pin down. He ranges over a wide canvas of feelings and situations — and amid the torrent of words are some magical images.

He seemed almost to be playing with his audience last evening, occasionally holding them entranced with his poetic stories; at other times releasing the tension with a collection of intuitive insults. Sam Hunt’s voice is the fishing line with which he plays his audience. Sometimes it is harsh as he talks about silly politicians or spies; at other times he is downright perverse and cutting as he inserts barbed comments about critics and Kiwi jokers. But mostly it is gentle and mocking as he ponders the insecurities of people, and himself. Occasionally last evening he was quite incomprehensible. He would then follow up with a poem of considerable beauty, such as “Brother Lynch,” in which he remembered his youth and manhood measured against his contact with a former teacher.

Sam Hunt is an Everyman. He talks basically about the life and times of Sam Hunt — his fears, joys, loves, and losses. Judging

from the reaction of the audience, he speaks about things that concern us all.

An important element of his poetry is the methods he employs. His verse is a continual flow of contrasts: “A man can only find himself when lost.” It is both simple and profound, humorous and sad, infuriating and fascinating. In many respects the message is the medium. The way he expresses himself, with continual interruptions, numerous asides in the middle of some of his poems, is part of what he is saying. There was sadness in his voice when he said: “I too must walk away and know there is no return.” Yet he knows about the “male menopausal crisis” and he can still laugh about it. Certainly the audience laughed with him last evening and many, too, would have regretted his final departure from the stage. Sam Hunt produces and presents poetry that is worth hearing, and worth returning for.